


The Punishment

by mhysamerica



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Blood Kink, Bondage, Chair Bondage, F/M, Jealousy, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhysamerica/pseuds/mhysamerica
Summary: Natasha is jealous of Steve's growing friendship with Sharon, and she lets him know it. Plot with smut, smut with plot - however it's labeled, it's smutty.





	The Punishment

Upon turning her own key in the lock to open the door to his apartment, Natasha balled Steve’s shirt up in her fist and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind them with her left foot.  They had just gotten back from an awkward, quiet lunch out on the town. She shoved him against the foyer wall, hard—she was amazed that the plaster didn’t crack from their exertion.

“ _Oomph_.”

She placed her finger on his throat, displaying her control.  “What the fuck, Rogers.”

It was more of a contention than a question. 

“What the fuck, _what_ , Natasha?  What are you–”

She slapped him in the face.

Rubbing his jaw to ease the phantom pain (thank you, Super-Soldier Serum), he widened his eyes in both confusion and shock.  “Why are you even mad at me?”

Her eyes were feral, her face tight.  Her finger was still on his throat as she spoke harshly in Russian.  “ _ты мой_.”

Oh. 

 _Oh_.

He had gone sparring with Sharon in the morning, and only Sharon.  No Bucky, not even Sam. At this point, Sharon and Steve were spending a lot of time together, and Natasha was jealous as hell.  

Who knew that the Black Widow was capable of such an emotion?

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that was creeping on his face and was threatening to become a wide grin.  Before he knew it, her lips attacked his with a force and determination that he couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ —resist.  It was harsh and hot and raw, bringing a vague weakness to his knees.

Not that he was complaining, of course.  It was fine. Really.

He started to run his hand through her hair to feel her soft curls give under his fingers.  She almost closed her eyes in ecstasy. Almost. Instead, she just glared at him, her features hardening further.

He expelled air through his nose, feeling a little defeated.  “What’s the matter with you, Natasha? You know I–”

She swatted his hand out of her hair—it sounded as if a whip had struck the air.  She covered his mouth with hers again, her left hand reaching down and rubbing his member by way of his running shorts.  He couldn’t help the groan that spilled from his lips as she teasingly gripped his balls through the fabric; he slapped his palms against the wall so hard that the damn thing actually dented this time.  Her eyes were full of anger and fire, yet, full of lust and need and want.

“I hate you.  I’m punishing you,” she hissed.  The words were merely venomous against his mouth.

He should have been concerned...a little, at least.  He was ecstatic. (For the record, he was completely innocent, and he was positively sure that she didn’t hate him because she just told him she loved him.  But, whatever.)

He had said, once upon a time ago, that the man who came out of the ice was not the same man who was buried in it.  The man from the past would have “made love” to Natasha with patience and tenderness. These days, he would rather just fuck the shit out of her and play her filthy games (oh, they were _filthy_ ), and he loved that about his “reborn” self.

Upon literally ripping his sleeveless T-shirt off of his very chiseled body, she pulled down his boxer briefs and his shorts in one quick motion, exposing his slowly hardening shaft.  She didn’t touch him this time, and he huffed at that. She grabbed his arm and pulled his naked body down the hallway, pulling a chair out from his dinette set as they went along. She dragged the chair into place in the living room; she pushed him down onto the chair roughly.  

After removing his shoes and socks, she took off her own footwear.  She pulled her tank top off over her head and unhooked her bra, dropping both to the floor before unbuttoning her jeans, sliding the zipper down so slowly, so torturously, that the tension was almost painful.  As soon as her pants fell, his eyes widened with realization. 

Christ, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her jeans.

Not that he wasn’t appreciative.

She smiled at his expression, rubbing and touching her soft sex to make it nice and wet.  “What’s the matter, Rogers? You want something?”

After watching her circle her clit with the tips of three of her fingers for a handful of seconds, he saw her pussy juice drip down her leg.  His nod was more than eager.

She slid her feet back into her high-heeled boots that stopped right below the knee.  Subsequently, she straddled him with grace and insistence, proudly bare and smooth-skinned.  She shuffled on his lap, intentionally grinding against his front. The feel of her hot and slick passage against his hardness was causing him to lose consciousness.  He groaned at the pleasure rolling through him, grinding his teeth together to restrain the extreme excitement that was trying to escape his throat.

She ran her hands through his hair, disheveling his already messy strands even more.  His eyes fluttered closed to focus on the pleasure, a breathy moan escaping his lips as his head lolled back.  He gripped her ass tightly with his strong hands as she continued to grind and press her pussy against his cock, his nails digging into her so deeply that it drew blood.  The smell of her own blood turned her eyes a dark color, causing her to grip his hair convulsively and pull his head to hers for another kiss.  She kissed him deep and hard and ruthless.  “You can’t have my pussy,” she whispered harshly in his ear, a smile in her voice.

His face was clearly marked with disappointment.  He cleared his throat, as if it hurt him to talk. “Um, what?”

She climbed off of him, his mouth slightly agape in an expression that combined both physical and psychological agony.  She spread his legs wide apart and squatted in-between them; she licked his balls and his length teasingly before getting up to walk, measuring out her torture to the beat of his strangled breathing.

He was so lost in his abyss of pleasure that he didn’t even notice her leave for his bedroom.  Precisely five seconds later, she came out of the bedroom with one of his extra long neckties; she tied his hands behind him to the chair.  She tugged them tightly, causing him to wince—but only out of instinct, of course. (Again, thank you, Serum.) Smirking with satisfaction, she settled into his armchair that was a couple of feet away. 

“You can just watch me please myself,” she breathed seductively as she pinched and plucked and twisted her nipples until her face was contorted with pure, wanton pleasure.

His body slumped in his chair, his mouth still slightly open as he processed the information.  His voice was flat and mirthless. “You’re punishing me for training our colleague?”

She didn’t respond with words, and he didn’t expect her to.  There it was, that hot, swollen organ of hers, opening up as she spread her legs wide, her heels piercing the cushion of the chair.  Her pussy was taunting him, teasing him. Her landing strip was absolutely amazing. Oh, how he wanted his mouth _there_.

She dove two of her fingers deep inside into her slit, her lusty gasps and satisfied moans filling the quiet air (she hoped to God that Sharon was home to hear).  He watched her with a rapt attention that was both possessive and predatory. He could clearly hear the sloppy, sloshing noises that were emanating from her depths as she drew her fingers in and out, turgid in her extreme arousal.

“Jesus, Nat.  You’re so wet, baby.”  His cock was even harder now, and it ached him that he couldn’t touch himself.  She smiled devilishly at him; there was nothing more satisfying to her than knowing the effect that she had on Captain America.  She reveled in her power over his contentment. She bit her lower lip as her hips bucked against her own fingers. She then brought her free hand up to rub slow circles around her clit.  She gasped and smiled as she felt her clit harden and her warmth increase, lolling her head back against the top of the armchair.

He had bitten his own lower lip so hard that it almost started to bleed.  He swallowed and took in the sight of his girlfriend in front of him, enjoying herself as she played with her own cunt.  This was her way of punishing him, and he hated and loved it all at once.

Nonetheless, he played along.

“What are you thinking about?”

She lifted her head from the top of the armchair but she kept her hands going, the friction along her sensitive clit sending tingles through her already burning nether lips.  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked flatly but in a breathless and husky tone, a hint of anger still heating her voice.

He chuckled and smiled playfully.  “You said I couldn’t touch you. You didn’t say anything about talking to you.”  The words left his lips in the most seductive tone that he could conjure, and damn, was it seductive.  It was a voice that was so implacable and so sure, it dialed her arousal higher.

She hated where this was going, and she knew exactly where it was going.  He knows just what to say to make her explode, to make her scream his name.

So much for punishing him.

“Can I paint you a picture?”

“If you must,” she invited negatively.

“You, and I, sparring practice.  You’re dominating me on the mat, pinning me, wrestling me to the floor with a knife at my chest...”

As if out of nowhere, she couldn’t control her own hands.  They began to move faster, harder. Her anger had completely dissipated, her breathing harder and labored.  She felt herself falling under his spell and she couldn’t summon the energy to care. “Yes,” she nodded rapidly, her thighs starting to shake.  “Keep talking.”

He smiled a cocky, confident grin that you’d only expect from someone other than Steve Rogers.  She was close, and he could tell. “You’re taking the knife to cut open my shirt and rip it off of me, exposing the very skin that you so desperately always want to lick and suck and taste...”

She closed her eyes again and lolled her head backwards as the pleasure in her intensified, bringing her closer and closer to her climax.  He continued, even as his cock lay twitching excitedly against his well-developed abdominal muscles, swelling with need. “I’m drenched in sweat, and you’re gliding the knife up and down my naked chest, gathering my sweat on the blade...”

She began to pull in her breaths in short gasps, her legs now trembling uncontrollably.  And the next words from his mouth were all it took to bring her to orgasm. “You’re licking the blade clean before cutting the rest of my clothes off–”

“ _Steve_!” she yelped, her legs as open as they could get.  She rubbed her left hand rapidly back and forth over her clit, her right hand finger-fucking herself as fast as she could take it.  Her wetness was all over her inner thighs and covering her fingers. 

He watched her, with hunger and intent, as she climaxed to his words.  “ _Fuck_ , Natasha,” he groaned.  He felt his cock twitch again; he was getting desperate.

Upon catching her breath, she got up out of the armchair and strode over to him, her pussy still creamy and wet.  His eyes left her for a moment as they noticed a pool of her juices on the cushion of the armchair. He didn’t care, really.  He was actually proud of himself, for he made her come that hard without his cock or his mouth. He made a mental note, though, to scrub the cushion later.  He didn’t want to give Tony one more thing to add to his already long list of reasons to give him shit.

When his eyes returned to her, she was already climbing onto his lap, her wet cunt sliding on his length.  He moaned loudly at the blessed contact.  She just laughed as she fed him her slick juices off of her fingers.  “Thank you for your cooperation, Captain.”

He chuckled as he sucked her fingers clean.  “It’s my pleasure, ma’am.” Upon tasting her nectar, he attacked her lips with fury, already missing her taste on his tongue.  Somehow, she managed to tear her mouth away from his, and she reached behind him to loosen his necktie. She then arched her back and rested her hands on his thighs to give him more of herself.  He took full advantage, lifting her breasts one at a time with his reddened hands (he was _really_ gripping his necktie, okay?) to lick her nipples and to suck them into his mouth. “You can have my pussy now,” she permitted, moaning and whimpering.

“How generous of you,” he chuckled in-between sucks.

Raising an eyebrow, she took his length in her hand to slide her pussy down on his cock, filling herself completely with what he had to offer, and he offered _a lot_.  He let her nipple go with a pop and let his head fall back as he groaned, a raw sound that reverberated in the back of his throat.  She smiled a mischievous one. 

She rode him in a slow, rolling rhythm that teased his patience to the brink.  He rapidly snapped his head back forward, chuckling and shaking his head in amusement.  He began to buck his hips wildly up into her as she stiffened, holding herself still so that he was now in control.  She gave him control of her body. He settled his hands on her hips, steadying her body as he arched upward, shoving his cock in and out of her rapidly and smashing his balls against her soaked heat with every thrust.  

He kissed her messily and with need, and she responded in kind.  He impaled her mouth with his tongue, devouring her with an abandoned, wild passion that stole her breath.  

Tearing her mouth from his, she rested her forehead against his as her hands fisted his hair, tugging lightly (okay, maybe a bit more than lightly).  Continuous and delicious moans escaped her lips, letting out a loud cry the second his fingers made contact with her throbbing clit. “I-I love you,” she stuttered as his cock continued to plunge in and out between her tired legs, her eyes meeting his.

He was smiling from ear to ear, his breath panting hot against her face.  He dragged his free thumb down her bottom lip before pinching her chin affectionately.  “No one else but you, Natasha.” His eyes never left hers.

And then they came apart.  Together.

After draining his balls into her, they just remained there, their sweat-covered bodies heaving.  They laughed lustfully; each had their hands entangled in each other’s damp hair. 

And within just a matter of seconds, he was already slowly thrusting himself inside of her again, ripping a surprised yelp out of her.  

Though she shouldn’t have been surprised.  The Serum did work wonders, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> “ты мой” - “You’re mine”


End file.
